I Am Not My Hair: NCIS
by sissouthernink1994
Summary: Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers or wings, is it, for that reason to be of no account?- Jean Paul
1. Intro

I Am Not My Hair: NCIS

This is the second volume of my "hair series". "Anatomy of an Up-do" is my first featuring the ladies of CSI: Miami, NCIS: Los Angeles and CSI: NY. It was based on my experiences of growing out my hair and the Memphis heat. This second volume is based on a favorite song by artist called "I Am Not My Hair". If you follow her career (and pay attention to the song) then you know she has had a few hair changes. So let's see how the people of Criminal Minds and NCIS deal with long hair. Each is a drabble (300 words after the A/N) and based on a quote.

Also, if you are on Twitter you can follow me (at symbol) **sissouthernink.** I will follow you back.

**Summary:** "Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, is it, for that reason, to be of no account?"- Jean Paul


	2. Ziva

**Disclaimer: **See Intro

**Warning: **None

**Summary:** "Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, is it, for that reason, to be of no account?"- Jean Paul

**A/N:** Drabble with 300 words starting after the quote.

Chapter 1: Ziva

"_**Prejudice is like a hair across your cheek. You can't see it, you can't feel it with your fingers, but you keep brushing at it because the feel of it is irritating." **_

_**- Marian Anderson, African-American opera singer**_

I am different. I know this. I have lived my life differently. Very few people have grown up the way I have. I was raised in the life of Mossad. My father saw to it that I learned to defend my country and myself. People have died doing this. I still do not know why I have been so lucky.

Becoming a part of America is the dream of so many foreigners. Most people want to be out of whatever hell they are in. The thought of a new life in a new place is so….intriguing. There is so much hope in coming to America. None of us ever thought about the fact that some Americans do not want us here. Sometimes it feels like we have left the skillet only to find ourselves inside the frying pan. I think that is the expression.

I am Jewish and have that "dreaded" Middle Eastern look. The one that so many people are afraid of. I have seen people whisper when I walk by. If I stop to look for a friend I am meeting, they think I am scouting out a place to set off a bomb. I have heard grown men talk about how they would "take me down" if something were to "pop off". They have no idea who I am _nor_ do they know that I could kill them before they could even think of doing harm to me.

Now, I am an American citizen. I have taken the classes, I have passed the test. I have taken my oath. I take my life experiences that Mossad and my father taught me and I still protect my country. I am a part of this country's beautiful fabric. Israel is where I was born, America is now my home.


	3. Abby

**Disclaimer: **See Intro

**Warning: **None

**Summary:** "Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, is it, for that reason, to be of no account?"- Jean Paul

**A/N:** Drabble with 300 words starting after the quote. I really like Abby. She's smart, weird, and funny.

Chapter 2: Abby

"_**Hairstyle is the final tip-off whether or not a woman really knows herself." **_

_**-Hubert de Givenchy**_

There's nothing like proving people wrong. I LOVE doing that! People think I'm so childish because I wear pigtails in my hair. Well, I think all adults have an inner child and the world would be a better place if we let them out and play just a little. They keep my hair outta my face while I'm working or bowling. Besides, I like the way they swing when I have exciting news to tell Gibbs. Some people think I'm clueless about life. They think I'm a lost soul, a college kid with no dreams, content to live a life of nothingness. Some think I'm a devil worshipper. **Ugh as if!** I'm happily Catholic.

I like to wear black, so what? Many Goths do. I like loud metal music. So, what? I'm not the only one. And many of those people aren't Goths at all. I have piercings and tats. Again, so what? I'm still not the only one. I like the idea of sleeping in a coffin. I don't want to be a vampire, I just like the idea. Caf-Pow is my favorite drink, just the right amount of caffeine to match my personality.

I like science so much that I have three degrees in it. I like old cars so much that I drive a '32 Ford Deuce Coup. I like boots and I like wearing them to work. I'm tall and they make so much taller. Plus I like the feeling that I'm kicking criminals' behinds when I wear them. I like to communicate through American Sign Language and hugs. I like, no, I _love _the people I work with. They are my family. I like that we can be open with each other, fight and make up. What can I say, I like what I like.


	4. Jenny

**Disclaimer: **See Intro

**Warning: **None

**Summary:** "Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, is it, for that reason, to be of no account?"- Jean Paul

**A/N:** Drabble with 300 words starting after the quote.

"_**Friendships that have stood the test of time and chance are surely best. Brows may wrinkle, hair grow gray. Friendship never knows decay."**_

_**-Anonymous**_

Old friends are like old habits, they die hard. How could I even _**think**_ that I could hide something like this from Jethro? He doesn't know specifics, but he knows something. He knows me well enough to know something is worrying with me. I don't know how he does but he knows. I haven't really told anyone.

But he keeps asking if I'm ok. He asks if I'm feeling well. I say I'm fine. But because he knows me, he knows I'm lying. I don't want to tell him. I don't want to tell him _anything_. It'll just make it harder in the end. When I die.

Maybe it's my hair. It's not as bright anymore. Even I've noticed that. And there were a few more strands in my brush the other morning. I'm paler than usual. Perhaps he noticed that. Perhaps he noticed the changes in my eating habits. Who knows?

I don't know what this disease and medicine will ultimately do to me. From my last round of tests, the score is Disease 3, Medicine 0. I can't go on much longer. I hurt, I feel nauseous all the time. My thoughts are foggy. I pray that I can keep doing my job so no one notices. I have my resignation letter ready for when my doctor says I need it. I might have to turn it in sooner.

I'm quietly tying up loose ends so no one knows. I don't want anyone's pity disguised as care and sympathy. I just don't. Oh, but what about Ziva? We've protected each other; she's like the daughter I never got to have. And Jethro? How do I tell one of my oldest friends that I'm about to die? How do I tell him that I'm still in love? I can't.


End file.
